


The Merc with a Mouth

by squarephoenix



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Language, Sexual Humor, Slow Build, Unrequited Love, inspired by spideypool, three is kind of a pervert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squarephoenix/pseuds/squarephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The person who originated the phrase: ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ has never met Marcus Boone. In One’s case, it's the 'enemy of my enemy is my pain in the ass'. And it looks like that pain will be around for awhile unfortunately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who wants enchiladas?

**Author's Note:**

> I started this late last year after discovering Spideypool (Deadpool/Spider-Man) and thought of these two. Three is the perfect image of a merc with a mouth. And One has the boyish looks, dorkiness, and morality of Peter Parker. Hopefully I didn't make Three too creepy in his pursuit of One.  
> Also, Derrick has Jace’s face and vice versa. There was never any face swapping.  
> Warning: Three makes many lewd, unwelcome comments to One.  
> All mistakes are my fault. Enjoy.

One awakens and is immediately overwhelmed with confusion and disorientation. A bag is over his head obscuring his vision along with braces over his arms and lower torso. His legs are untied but a quick test of rocking in the chair yields no results meaning the the furniture is bolted to the floor. Calling out for help is an instant failure when he realizes his mouth is firmly sealed by tape. All in all, any hope to exploit some kind of chink in his bindings are nonexistent. He tries focusing on controlling his uneven breathing, the only thing he has any control of at the moment. The last thing he needs now is to black out right after awakening from his forced slumber.

Thinking back, the last memory One has before he slipped away from the conscious world is standing in his kitchen waiting for a pizza in the oven.  _ Shit!  _ Was the apartment on fire by now? What did it matter anyway when he was very likely to die here? Wherever here is. 

One can feel the panic attack he managed to stave off reaching to the surface as he thinks of his inevitable fate and how powerless he feels. Life and death situations are commonplace in his new position with the Raza but at least he usually had the ability to fight and defend himself, or on the rare occasion run if need be. But this... this was torture. He’s a sitting duck waiting to meet his end. And there wasn’t even the hope of his team finding him. The Raza crew, himself included, are taking some much needed time off and wouldn’t expect to hear from him in another week. The thought of being utterly alone causes One’s heart to pound into overtime. 

The sack blinding One is ripped away without a warning of approaching footsteps or any telltale sign he wasn’t alone.

“Easy there, just breathe.” One hears a male voice gently instruct as he blinks away the dark spots in his sight and the uncomfortability of having his eyesight impaired for so long. One can feel normality return to his breathing now that he has something new to focus on. 

The man before him was covered head to toe in black, with the exception of a dark red, head-covering mask. The only characteristic One can make out are the blue eyes through the holes of the mask focused on its captured guest. There is wrinkling on the sides of the mask as if the captor is smiling. 

“Rise and shine, pretty boy.” The voice has a soft and gruff mixture to it.

“Where am I?” One says. Or he tries to say, forgetting about the thick duct tape preventing him from talking. 

One looks around curiously from side to side hoping to recognize his surroundings. It won’t help him out of his predicament but it was something to focus on in the present instead of dreading his bleak future. There isn’t much to see - or rather, there isn’t much he can see. A shroud of darkness covers most of the room he’s in, the light fixture above his head casted a soft ring of illumination around One. His captor is the only clear thing he sees and everything else are silhouettes of objects.

“I didn’t catch that, you mind repeating…” The captor rips the tape over One’s mouth in a  fast pull. “Gotta bite the bullet and do it quick like a parachute cord or a dislocated shoulder.” The masked man says over One’s groaning from the burning sensation around his mouth. There are surely fine hairs from One’s lightly stubbled face stuck to the strip of tape.

“I said - Who are you?” One repeats in a raspy voice, wondering how long it had been since he last used his vocal cords.

“Name’s Marcus Boone, mercenary extraordinaire,” Marcus pulls off his mask to reveal a man with disheveled hair, a lightly bearded jaw, and a wide grin that makes One uneasy, more so than already is. “Whew, that mask was not very breathable.”

“Why--” One croaks out before going into a short coughing fit.

“You must be thirsty. Here.” Marcus' hand disappears and reappears from the shroud of darkness with a glass of water. “Sorry about the tape, I debated a long time whether to seal those luscious lips. But it needed to done. Those lips...I know the perfect place for them.” One wastes no time in delivering a hard kick to Marcus in the chin for his lewd remark. As a result, the drinking glass falls and shatters close by One's feet - luckily wearing footwear. 

“Ahem. I see I judged our relationship prematurely, my mistake. You're not there yet, it's perfectly fine, we have plenty of time.” A shiver ran down One’s back knowing this weirdo isn’t planning on letting him go anytime soon. “Not how I expected our first date to be, but at least I can still eat solid food.” Marcus rotates his jaw to assess the damage. He disappears momentarily into the darkness leaving One to wonder what is next in this nightmare. A romantic table set for two is wheeled in when Marcus reenters the limited light of the room. “Quickest way to a man's heart…” The kidnapper trails off before attempting again to give water to One.

After One drains the water in the glass, he mutters an insincere thanks. He hadn’t realized how much water he’d gotten on his shirt until he saw Marcus staring at his chest. The buttons of his henley are undone showcasing a moderate coating of hair. When the man doesn’t seem to be ending his blatant appraisal any time soon, One clears his throat loudly and angrily.

Marcus shakes out of his reverie. “How rude of me to stare. I’m just surprised...pleasantly surprised of course. Figured a pretty boy like you would be all plucked and waxed like a cornish hen or something. Man, I could really go for chicken. Too bad that’s not on tonight’s menu.”

Before One can wonder what Marcus means, the mercenary sets down a plate for himself and One before loudly shaking out a napkin to tuck into his collar. “ _ Boone Appétit. _ Enchiladas! I prepared it myself. Dig in!” 

Marcus takes his own advice and immediately chows down the full plate sitting in front of him. It’s a sight of horror and disturbing fascination for One to have an all access pass to the feeding of mercenary extraordinaire, Marcus Boone. How the man hasn’t choked to death on the sizeable bites is a mystery for the ages, one that will take science years to fully understand.

“Tis s’good. Wus ah matter? Sumpin’ ‘rong wiff oar foo?”

One mentally pats himself on the back for understanding the merc with a mouthful of food, and probably esophagus full. He waves his hands to signal the problem, reminding the blue eyed kidnapper of the binds restricting his dinner date from eating.

Marcus wipes the sauce and other bits of food from his beard. With a napkin, miraculously. “Promise to play nice?”

“If you promise to actually chew your food instead of swallowing it whole like a snake.” One criticizes the lack of etiquette he witnessed. Probably not the wisest thing to do to a man with guns strapped to his legs, One notices as Marcus stands close to him.

“Sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve had company.” The merc cuts the binding of One’s right hand. “Been on my own for some time now.” One catches the bravado the man wore so easily like a mask fall slightly. Marcus clears his throat as he sits back down. “Don’t be shy dig in.”

Somehow the meal seems semi-normal, now that Marcus is remembering how use proper table manners. Despite his bindings, One doesn’t feel particularly threatened or in any real danger. But there is still a lingering uneasiness in the air by the merc’s off putting come ons. One was more confused than scared at the moment. Even after a kick to the face Marcus didn’t retaliate or punish him. Not only that but the guy apologized to One. What kind of mercenary was he dealing with? A dinner date couldn’t be the only thing he wanted, right? Is he trying to lure him into a false sense of security?

There is one thing nagging One though. This close to Marcus, he can’t help but feel a weird sense of familiarity looking at the merc.

“Now what’s wrong?” Marcus’ concerned tone halts One’s inner musings. Then, like a flash of lightning, a connection is made in his mind.

“I know you, don’t I? We’ve met before, I think.” Waggling an accusing finger with his only free hand in a subconscious effort to shake the memory loose in his mind.

Marcus ducks his head into his meal no longer trying to set a fastest speed eating record - now merely poking at his food with a fork. “Nope.” 

“We have -- I saw you on the elevator. Yeah, you live in my building.” One finally pieces together. “I remember... you entered the apartment next to mine.” One had thought the guy was kind of nervous but excused it at the time as  _ ‘first meeting' _ jitters, not  _ ‘I’ve been made by my target’ _ panic.

“Oh that…” Marcus chuckles while rakes his hair nervously, looking to be carefully deciding what comes out of his mouth next. “Uh, this is kinda funny... That apartment wasn’t mine, nor was it unoccupied. I needed to get a closer look at my target. But I didn't kill anyone, I swear! At least he shouldn't be dead. God, did I remember to poke holes in the box this time?” 

The dread One felt earlier was coming back in full force. As he looks down at his meal he thinks with certainty that this is more of a last meal before execution than a gesture of goodwill. 

A call cuts through One’s panic and disturbs the dinner. Though with the lack of eating happening at moment and the tense atmosphere, it wasn’t much of a disturbance. “I am so sorry about this. You know how it is with work. This’ll just be a sec.”

Marcus walks to edge of the darkness with his back turned to One, giving the chair bound man a chance to take advantage of his unsupervised opportunity. Thinking fast, One decides against the knife on the table knowing it would be quickly discovered that the cutlery has gone missing. Not that plastic utensils will do much good for his predicament. He looks down at the floor to shards of glass littered on the ground. With watchful eyes on a busy Marcus, his free hand reaches down in urgency to pick up a glass shard clinched between his feet. 

“How about this, why don't you have a nice chat with my dick because I already said the deal is null and void. Bye...asshole.” As soon as One heard Marcus end the heated call with his client, One snaps back into an upright position before his kidnapper comes back, failing to grab a piece of glass because of the tight binding around his torso and limited time. He hadn’t heard much of Marcus’ conversation but it obviously didn’t end well.

“I speak figuratively of course my mole dotted angel. You are the only one I want speaking to my dick. Man oh man those lips…” Marcus addresses to One with a longing sigh.

Frustrated with his failed attempt and the  _ ‘compliments’ _ being given to him, One snaps. “Please! Please, stop talking about my lips! If you think you can force me t-to --” One can’t finish voicing his deepest fear of what the mercenary has planned for him after this so-called dinner date is over.

From the hurt, disgusted look on Marcus’ face, the message is well received. “Woah, woah. Hey, I’d never do that to you.” The mercenary says softly, walking back slowly to his seat with hands raised as if he didn’t want to spook a deer found in nature.

“Really? Because the bindings and kidnapping tell a different story.” One spits back.

“This is just to get you to know me a little.”

“If you wanted me to get to know you all you had to do was talk to me when we were in the elevator together! Or knock on my door like a normal neighbor!” One exclaims, annoyed with the ludicrous reasoning for his capture.

“Well...everything is 20/20 in hindsight.” Marcus scratches his beard in embarrassment and sits back down. “Look, please believe me when I say I'm not after you for sex, I mean c'mon there’s easier ways to get some if that’s all I wanted. Especially with this face, amirite?” Marcus waggles his eyebrows as he praises himself.

“The face isn't the problem, it's the personality behind them.” One states dryly.

“So, what I’m hearing is you think I’m handsome - scratch that - gorgeous!” Marcus grins with misplaced satisfaction. The kidnapper sobers a bit before continuing. “You should be grateful, bright eyes. The people I worked for paid a hefty sum for you. I’m on your side. Honest.” 

Now, One has even more questions to add to his growing list. As if wondering who taught Marcus to eat around company isn’t perplexing enough. The question of who is after One takes top spot in his mind. Are they after One, member of the Raza crew? Or are they after Derrick Moss, the businessman he once was before starting his new life? Marcus hasn’t used either of his identities from the time One first heard the merc’s voice - strictly sticking to pet names. If the guy doesn't know One’s true identity as Raza member then he might have a chance to be underestimated and gain an edge on his kidnapper. After all, Derrick Moss doesn't exactly project the word intimidating at first glance. An assumption he's used in his favor before. The puppy with a bite as Six jokingly called Derrick after he proved himself to the Raza crew.

“So, what do we talk about?” Marcus’ question takes One out of his inner deliberation. “I know! This has been weighing heavily on my mind for a while…” An intense look from Marcus gives One the impression that there will be a deep conversation about to commence. “Is there some kind of exercise you do for that ass?” One was wrong, so very wrong. “Because damn! It boggles the mind of its sheer perfection. I could write songs about it. I actually have tried once, you know stake outs can get boring after a while. Not that you’re boring at all to watch.”

A prickling cold stare from his dinner guest has Marcus ready to change the subject. “Not interested in sharing just yet? Okay I’ll start.” Marcus clears his throat theatrically before pressing forward. “My puppy ran away when I was young, loved that little guy too.” One wonders if the small animal was in a similar hostage situation and managed to escape. “What else? I never went to my prom in high school. By the time I got the nerve to start asking for a date, everyone was coupled up and I was left taking a neighbor’s cousin...who needed up cancelling on me.” It wasn’t hard to see why anyone would cancel on him. “Uh, let’s see… I never had a pet before even though I asked my dad for one everyday for nearly a year. My favorite movie is --” 

“What -- you just said you had a puppy.” Unfortunately, One doesn't have much else to do but listen and notices the inconsistency with Marcus’ statement.

“I did? Hm. Well, I say without a doubt one of those stories is true.” If the merc thinks sharing personal stories is doing anything in his favor then Marcus will be severely disappointed. 

One can feel a vice on his brain getting tighter the longer he spends with the man in front of him. He was so close to gaining a glass shard, a little time is all One needs to try again. “Uh, do you think we could have some more light in here? Please.” One pleads, desperate to free himself from this nightmare.

“Sure thing, bright eyes. See how nice of a guy I can be.” Marcus says while One does his best not eye roll at the metaphorical pat on the back the merc gives himself.

One’s second attempt has the desired outcome, the shard in his grasp but the improved illumination unveils a hidden secret formerly shrouded in darkness. The sight causes him to drop the glass, ruining his chances to cut his bindings or defend himself if need be.

“What’s the matter, baby cakes? Did you cut yourself?” Marcus rushes after hearing glass shatter at One’s side, who currently has his eyes paralyzed on the wall to his right. “I knew I should have cleaned that up off the floor.”

“Marcus…” One’s nostrils flare visibly before he speaks again. “A-are those photos of me in my underwear?! And are those my actual underwear?! Why the hell--?!” One doesn’t care if his voice is getting higher by the second. What the hell did his boxer briefs have to do with surveillance?

“Would you have given them if I'd ask?”

“What possible reason would you have for my underwear?!”

“Ever since I’ve met you, I've been in blue ball hell. I needed something to help...”

“Too much information, man!” Screwing his eyes shut proves to be a useless attempt to block what he discovers. Against his will, One’s mind conjures flashes of what depraved things Marcus did alone here.

“Hey, you asked.” Marcus shrugs sheepishly. One had to agree that it was his fault for asking. But how many people saw their underwear posted on a wall like painting and could think with perfect clarity afterwards?

That lack of clarity is why One gives a punishing kick to Marcus’ midsection. The feistiness was cute the first time.” He lets out long pained groan. “Not so much the second time around. If you're gonna keep hitting me please not the face again. Or the balls. Especially not the balls.”

A metallic clanging on the floor gets closer to the two men until a small canister comes into view. In an instant, Marcus crowds over One to protect him from the threat. The fear of an instant death by a grenade is alleviated when the familiar ringing of a flashbang sounds off. The passive way of neutralizing the room makes One guess it’s Marcus’ client coming for retribution for going back on their contract.

 

Marcus whips out his two side arms strapped to his thighs, his stance in defense mode as he stands guard in front of One’s body tethered to the chair. Pistols are trained on the two unwelcomed intruders in Marcus’ lair. With immediate recognition of the two, Marcus groans in annoyance. “Aw, shit!”

“One, you okay?” The woman, One can see around Marcus’ frame as Two from his group, asks standing next to a katana wielding man, One recognizes as Four.

“One? What the...you working with these clowns? How’d I not see that? I’ve been watching you like a hawk for two weeks!” Some mercenary extraordinaire Marcus Boone is, which only makes One’s abduction more pathetic.

“I’m fine. Nice to see you guys.” One answers to Two, ignoring Marcus’ confusion. Two is always a sight to appreciate but he’s never been so happy to see her at that moment. Or see part of her since Marcus won’t move out of his line of sight.

“What have you gotten yourself into since you’ve been gone?” It wasn’t clear which person Two is speaking to. The hint of amusement in her voice was a far cry from her usual tough as nail disposition when dealing with standoffs.

“If the pair of you are here, then where is--” Marcus’ question is cut short as the sound of a safety being pulled fills in the blank for the merc.

“Boone, good to see you. Looking well.” Six’s rather chirper voice given the circumstances says to the flank of Marcus. One sits in chair looking at scene in utter confusion. Why is his team treating the situation with such a laid back attitude?

The outgunned kidnapper glances in the corner of his eyes. “Right back at ya, tiny.” Marcus replies to the man who is the total opposite of the nickname.

“How about you lower those weapons so we can have a nice family reunion?” Six suggests lightly.

“I don’t know about you all but I never attend a family reunion without at least one handgun and a tear gas canister for backup. But,” Marcus pauses and looks at the room full of weapons being pointed solely at him with a couple of red dots on his forehead. “I’ll make an exception this time.” His guns return to the holsters strapped on his thighs. “Not that I have much of a choice.” He murmurs with a pout.

“How did you know I went missing?” One wonders aloud, knowing they weren’t scheduled to join back together until next week.

“A fire alarm was triggered in your apartment and everyone in the building was evacuated. Your place will smell smokey for weeks but no real damage was done.” Six fills in while freeing One from the chair. At least One’s apartment wasn’t on fire like he worried. 

“Dammit, I knew I forgot something.” Marcus grunts out with his face planted on the floor as Four securely tied up the merc. “I have bad feeling I also forgot about your next door neighbor…”

“Mr Hendrickson?” Two says. “Yeah, the building manager checked his apartment to make sure the old man left too. An agoraphobe. Tied and gagged but very much breathing. When Andriod found out One was missing it was just a matter of tracking suspicious activity through the traffic and nearby cameras. Luckily someone stopped for...enchiladas.” Two stares with disbelief at Marcus. Of course the lunatic would blow his stealthy operation for something ridiculous.

“Prepared dinner yourself, huh?” One raised a brow, not knowing why he brought up Marcus’ earlier boast of having prepared dinner himself.

“I had to reheat and serve it didn’t I? Sounds like prep work to me.” Marcus shrugs as he’s stripped of his weapons by the ever silent Four.

“I think I‘ve had as much as I can take from him. If you all decide to jettison him into space, I am reserving ahead of time for a front seat to the show.”

When One said he was done with Marcus he meant it, leaving the merc’s imprisonment and interrogation to the rest of the crew. After a quick check up with Android, One is deemed to be in perfect health. No lingering effects from whatever drug Marcus used to knock him out or any poison found flowing in his body as some kind of contingency plan. The only concern from Android is his empty stomach he hadn’t filled during his dinner that put One on a path heading to the mess hall for nutritious, bland-tasting protein bars. Marcus may be off his rocker but at least he knew how feed a guy right.

While chomping on a protein bar heading back to his room for a well deserved consented rest, One is surprised to see Marcus walking the hall freely with Two. He nearly chokes on his bite at the sight.

“Hey, I told you we'd have plenty of time together.” Marcus walks innocently toward One, eyes locked between them. But the word innocent is something One does not associate with his former abductor and walks backwards for every step that Marcus takes. The weird tango the two men share has One backing into a wall behind him and Marcus crowding his personal space. The only thing preventing One from trying to break Marcus’ nose is Two’s presence close by. The merc’s free roam didn’t make any sense whatsoever but One trusted her with his life and is confident he’s safe aboard the ship. Marcus leans in close, with those damn piercing blues glinting playfully at One’s wary brown eyes. It feels like a kiss is about to commence when those blue eyes are tracking the swipe of One’s tongue across his suddenly dry lips. Instead, the rogue pushes a button beside One’s shoulder and opens the door One doesn’t realize he’s standing next to. 

Marcus steps into the unoccupied cabin and turns back around to a shell shocked One. “Guess who's back to being Three? I'll give you a big hint. This guy! Good night, bright eyes.” Marcus grins as wide as the sky, then with a swoosh the cabin door is shut leaving One with the horrifying new information.

One feels his veins throb intensely on his temples to the point that he fears they may rupture. His utter shock must be plain as day because Two speeds toward him saying to calm down and wait for an explanation.

“He's a good guy.” Two tries to alleviate One’s concerns but her vouching for the man that kidnapped him moments ago only serves to aggravate One. “Okay, a good guy to have in a fight.” She adds. “You're still at risk, and the rest of us may be too. We all might have been watched by others and Marcus has agreed to help us find who wanted you captured.” 

One doesn’t care if an alliance was made for his safety and the safety of his crew, he is not willing to cooperate with that crazy merc. “Maybe this was his plan from the get go, to lure the rest of the Raza and take or kill us all in one fell swoop.”

“Really? He knew we wouldn’t kill him on sight or try to turn him in to Galactic Authority immediately. Planned to set off the fire alarm so we’d know you were missing but with enough time to escape the building. Knew we would track and find him. Pretend he hadn’t known you were even with us. All of this when he could’ve simply pretended to be an old friend wanting to catch up or rejoin.”

“Um...m-maybe?” One knows he has no ground to stand on after Two plainly lays out the facts. But he can still try.

“It is only temporary. Try and rest up, we have a lot of work ahead of us.” Two walks away to her room leaving One alone to deal with his feelings about their new guest. He sighs mournfully as he enters his room across from Marcus. The person who said  _ ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ _ never met Marcus Boone. In One’s case, it is  _ the enemy of my enemy is my pain in the ass _ .”


	2. What are the blue pills for?

“Pretty boy! Finally decided to join the waking world? Coulda used your help moving in.”

Of course One has the displeasure of running into Marcus as soon as he opens his door. One watches the mercenary carry a large crate into his cabin.

“What is all of that?” One asks into the open doorway with an edge to his voice, skipping any type of pleasantry.

“The last of my stuff. Now we can officially hit the road… or the sky, I guess.” Marcus answers.

One follows Marcus into his room, wary to what is bringing brought aboard the ship. He knows he should trust his crew to thoroughly inspect the merc’s belongings but One still wants to verify his safety on the ship he now calls home.

Marcus turns around and looks shocked before a smile spreads on his face. “Oh, decided you want a private tour of Boone’s Boom Room.” Marcus waggles his brows in a salacious meaning.

One rolls his eyes in response before pushing Marcus out of his way. “I’m making sure you’re not endangering the lives of this crew and myself.” 

“Before you do that, let me introduce you to some close friends of mine.” 

The sight One sees when he turns around at Marcus’ request causes him to jump back in fear, messing up the desk behind. A large gun, comically large, is held innocently in Marcus’ hands. As innocent as a gun can be held in the hands of a kidnapper.

“Whoa! What the hell, man? You!” Pointing to the innocent appearing face before him, One reprimands Marcus. “You do not get to whip out guns all...casual like!”

“It’s just Bubba, my railgun. Packs one helluva punch.” Marcus introduces with pride.

One scoffs as he witnesses Marcus gently rocking the huge weapon like a newborn in his arms. “Overcompensating much?”

Marcus places the railgun on his bed and then places both hands on his hips. “Wanna find out?” He gives his pelvis a little shake to draw attention.

“God, why do I even bother?”

Dismissing One’s disapproval, the merc continues with the meet and greet. “This is Lulu,” patting the side arm on his right leg. How did One miss the weapons strapped to his legs… again? “The other is Pip. Don’t worry your lovely crew took away the ammo cartridges.” 

One’s mouth acts of its own accord and before he knows it a question comes out instantly. “What do you name the knife in your boot?” He sees the delight on Marcus’ face, One knows the merc is thinking he’s won him over. “I-I mean… this is ridiculous! No one names their weapons!” One throws his arms in the air exasperatedly and returns to his inspection.

“Where's the rest of your stuff?” One interrogates after going through boxes of armor, holsters, leather jackets, leather vests, leather cuff bands. So much leather. One shudders at the thought of possibly discovering a kink of Marcus’. After that theory, One decides it’s best not to question about the large quantity of blue pills.

“This is it, I like to keep things simple.” Marcus supplies, cleaning his sidearm - Pip. Or was it Lulu?

One wonders whether the man had any real personal belongings. Some weapons and clothes can't truly be everything to the merc's name. And then with some more digging he finds a picture of a woman tucked away in the mess of weapon parts and random gadgets. It’s hard to tell whether the woman held in Marcus’s arms in the picture is a wife or girlfriend. Definitely not a sister, the two share too many radically different features to be considered related. Friend or anything platonic was off the list of possibilities with the intimate way they were embracing each other, the pose makes the gruff merc look much softer than One thought was conceivable.

One is so focused on the picture that he misses Marcus peering over his shoulder. “Never could figure out what she saw in me.” One flinches away when Marcus speaks, the merc’s low voice rumbling in his ear. One drops the picture back into the box. “But I think I see the same in you.”

One huffs out an affronted laugh and crosses his arms. “What exactly do you think we have in common?”

In a rare show, the merc is completely serious. Downright looking open and vulnerable.

“When I first met you I knew that I saw a little bit of myself in you. I saw that loneliness that only came from losing someone you love. But despite that loneliness, you gave me the warmest smile when we first met and you didn't even know me.” The memory produces lopsided smile on Marcus. “A man after my own shriveled, cold heart.”

One just remembers being neighborly to the new guy in his building. Marcus had a… stormy cloud over him and the only thing One could think of at the time was to give a friendly smile to him and hoped it helped. He didn’t think the man would read so much into it.

Marcus continues. “Even though I was making a lot of money and believe me it was a lot of money. It was. I mean I've got a boat waiting for me. All mine. Not an ordinary boat either, a freaking luxury yacht. 

“Marcus.” One interrupts the off topic bragging.

“Sorry. Anyways, the money was good but you meet the worst of the worst and it -- it starts to affect you. And there you were. A dork tearing over a copy of Charlotte's Web. And being a warm friendly neighbor. I dunno… I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I knew that behind those kind eyes was a darkness… and a sadness. And that maybe we’d be perfect for each other, you know.” He shrugs shyly.

One is stone cold silent. Marcus can't know, right? Uncomfortable with the frighteningly accurate judgement, One just snaps. “Don’t you dare presume to think you know me!” He storms out of the shocked merc’s room. “Just stay the hell away from me!” One yells out before he locks himself in room.

One slumps back on the wall trying to recover. How could that nut see right through him so easily? A check into Derrick Moss wouldn’t have shown Marcus anything substantial about his life that wasn’t pre-approved. He made sure to cover up what he needed prior to even meeting the Raza crew. Before any of the news outlets caught wind of what happened that caused him to be here. For all the crew knows, Derrick Moss had a mid-life crisis, closer to a quarter-life at his age, and needed to a massive shake up to his way of living. The team saw his dedication and how fast he was able to learn, not to mention the generous upgrades to the Raza didn’t hurt his admission to the crew. 

What was Marcus’ goal? Would he try to blackmail him? Did he even really know the truth?

One just needed this to be over and for Marcus to go back to wherever the hell he came from. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that update was worth the long wait. I added this new element of Three knowing One better than his teammates so things had to be rewritten, then rewritten again. Rewatching the show I remembered liking when Three was blackmailing One. No blackmail here but I want to keep One on edge when it comes to Three.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes.


	3. Whose underwear is this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from the dead.
> 
> I used a present (ish) day reference but if the show has people reading paperbacks of Charlotte's Web in the future then I think what I did is okay.

“Hey there, boss lady.” Marcus greets as he exits the mess hall and spots the unofficial but undisputed leader of the ship. His meal was just as memorable as he remembered from his previous time on the Raza. 

“Hello, Three.” Two responds. The merc officially back to being called Three now that the leader of the crew has said it. “Did you set everything up with Corso?”

“Sure did. Corso just thinks it was good old Marcus being Marcus.” It wasn't hard to convince his unknown benefactor. The merc called back his employer apologizing profusely about his turnabout decision to walk away from their arrangement blaming the whole incident on a bad batch of take out. Corso verified Marcus’ excuse, informing the benefactor that the mercenary may be ‘bat shit crazy’ at the best of times but would always get the job done at the end of the day. It definitely helped that he and Corso had past history regarding Three's unusual antics.

After replaying the conversation, the merc informs Two of the rendezvous point to deliver the package - aka Derrick Moss. The ship would take some time getting to the destination.

Two hums in approval.

“I even added in a demand for bonus pay just to keep the illusion going. Smart, huh.” Three boasts.

“Quite.” Though her tone didn't match her agreement. “Speaking of you being you, what is this fixation you have with One? I know Sarah's death must've been hard on you-- 

Three cuts in. “That... that has nothing to do with this. I've grieved and moved on. Just ask the many people who assisted in my therapeutic recovery. Actually don't ask them I'm pretty sure it's impolite to disturb an eternal slumber.”

Two doesn't say anything but gives an assessing look. Three still knows that look even after much time has passed between them.

Feeling the scrutiny becoming a bit overwhelming, Three finds a topic for lighter conversation and makes a passing observation. “Ship is looking good. New repairs?”

“Yep. All thanks to One.”

“I see. So he's really a member of this ragtag crew of losers? Like actually getting his hands dirty, fists scraped, nose broken?” He asks in disbelief. “Sorry but the guy looks about as dangerous as white bread.” Though he has to admit to still feeling those kicks to the face. Geez. All he did was compliment the guy on his sexy-ness. 

Two smirks. At first glance, she thought something similar about One. “He’s more than proven himself capable of fighting alongside the crew.”

The thought of One going into the type of skirmishes Three faced back in the day on this ship unnerves the merc.

“And I also see you have some more new crew members to go with the upgrades. Didn't take you for the babysitting type.” Regarding their new Five who looked like a teenager. The android was the other addition. “Seems like you're losing your sharp edge having a kid tag along.”

“I could say the same about you.” Two counters. “It was a pretty careless mistake you made with the camera. Not something I'd expect from the great Marcus Boone.” Two mocks with a raised brow.

“Yeah...well, my change of heart kinda screwed my well laid out plan.” As did his empty stomach.

“And your current Five... Where is the little snot-nosed brat anyways?” Three had only seen her once watching him with curiosity as he was escorted to an unoccupied room for a friendly chat about who the merc was working for and why. He had his own curiosity about what she even contributed to the band of bounty hunters.

“Probably in the air ducts. It's kind of her domain.” 

“Ducts, eh?” He scratches his beard as he looks at a nearby vent shaft.

“Why are you smiling so much?” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at the suspicious looking man in front of her.

Instead of answering, Three just walks away with a whistling tune and wearing a mischievous smile.

###

One walks to his cabin after performing an inventory check of their weapons for a possible fight against Corso. When he turns around the corner, he quickly finds cause to release an annoyed sigh. 

It was Three. Rapping on his door - the beat sounds vaguely like a song - holding what looks to be the various underwear he stole from his apartment.

“Hey, bright eyes. I wanted to return these to its rightful owner.” Three states when One arrives at his door hoping to ignore and bypass the merc.

One looks down at the handful of underwear cradled in his arms after Three pushed them in his chest, recognizing they do in fact belong to him. “Uh thanks… I think?” At least now One could destroy them and feel safe in the knowledge that they aren’t being used in any disturbing ways. “Wait… what the hell are these?” Staring at the ones he had never owned and would never had wanted to own. 

“im returning your stuff. Didn't we go through this already?”

One scrunches his face as he pinches as little of the fabric to hold in front of his face to inspect. “I don't wear… Lace… or jockstraps. Really?” 

What is this guy up to?

“Give 'em a test run. Don't be so vanilla! C'mon, try-o before you veto.” Three bounces on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pocket, looking too pleased with himself.

“Even if I wear any of this, you wouldn't see it!” One shouts. In spite of his aggravation, he doesn’t miss how Three briefly side eyes a particular area in One's room. 

Three appeared to consider One’s words before responding. “True, I didn't think that part through. Later.” He tries to scurry off but One isn't going to dismiss the sinking pit in his stomach pass.

“Wait, wait, wait. Three,” he says the merc's newly established name slowly, afraid of what he'll find out but proceeds nevertheless. One squints his eyes. “Do you have a camera in my room?” Remembering back to the intrusive pictures plastered on his former kidnapper's wall where he was held captive. 

“That's rich. Sexy and funny - you're the whole package, pretty boy.” Three laughs hysterically then wipes away a fake tear as if the accusation was the funniest thing he's ever heard. “On a completely unrelated topic, when you do change do it in front of your desk. ‘Kay. Bye.” 

Before Three tries to walk away, One twists him around with a pull on his shoulder. Fuming with anger, One draws back his fist to punch the boundary invading pervert in the face.

One minute the guy is analyzing him with scary accuracy then the next he's back to his perverted voyeuristic ways. A little consistency would be greatly appreciated. Actually Three's immediate removal off the ship would be even more appreciated. For now a punch will do.

Unfortunately Two grabs the punch heading to Three midair, materializing from thin air. That doesn’t stop One from trying to get his vengeance and attempts to use to his other fist. But Two twists the fist in hand enough to send One on his knees, effectively stopping his relentless attempts to hit the merc. Three starts laughing mockingly at the sight.

As if laughing at One isn’t enough, Three further rubs salt in the wound by singing a classical song.

One recognizes the melody as the same one tapped on his door earlier. In a back corner of One’s mind he begrudgingly admits the merc is actually a pretty good singer. 

“Private Eyes. They're watching you. Baby. Watching you, watching you, watching you…” Three sings.

Three’s humor and solo performance dies instantly when Two grips his nose between two knuckles with her other hand, twisting and applying an intense pressure that leaves him a whining mess of ‘ows’ and ‘ouchs’. 

“Both of you play nice and cut the shit. We still have a ways to go before we get there and I do not plan on playing referee the entire time.” She hopes they can hear over their pained groaning. She does not plan on repeating herself.

Two lets them go once they agree.

“Fine!” One proclaims while rotating his sore wrists. “Then I’m not leaving my room until this whole thing with Corso is done and he's off this ship!” Pointing squarely at the man rubbing his abused nose.

Two stares unimpressed at him.“You're being ridiculous.”

“I'm the one being ridiculous?!” One asks indignantly. “The guy basically admitted he has a camera installed in here!” He moves to the intercom system on the wall in his room and pushes the button to reach the youngest member of the crew. “Five! I need your help right away!”

##

Five completes a full diagnostic analysis of One's room and finds the two spy gadgets Three planted discreetly under One's desk and in the vent above the desk. “Now, if he tries to bug your room again, his feed will be scrambled.”

After One profusely thanks for her help, she envelops him in a hug. It surprises One that she's the one to show such an affectionate gesture when it should be the other way around. Five has really given him a solid peace of mind while the perverted merc still resides on the ship.

“I'm glad you're okay. I didn't get the chance to say it before.” Five says once she lets go.

One smiles back at her. This is what it is supposed to feel like on the ship. Safe and surrounded by friends he formed a close bond with through their many adventures. And the sooner Marcus Boone leaves this ship, the sooner One could get that easy, comfortable atmosphere back.

 


	4. Are you done yet?

When dinner time arrives, One had remained true to his word and never left his room. He distracted himself from Marcus’s problematic presence across the hall well enough with some reading and exercise. The exercise may have been shadow boxing using a mental image of the merc. One isn’t sure if that counts as ridding himself of any thoughts of the pestering merc. But he is calmer, so he counts it as a victory.

A knock on the door alerts him to an expected visitor. One assumes it's a visit from Android with the dinner he requested but is surprised to see Two standing before him when he opens the door.

“You’re sticking with this nonsense?” Two observes with a clear tone of impatience. “You can't stay in your room forever.”

“Not forever. Just until Marcus Boone leaves and  **never comes back** .” One reminds.

Two pushes past One to gain a more private conversation between them, closing the door behind her. “You don't have to forgive or forget, but don't let Three push you to the point where you're hiding in your room like a turtle afraid to come out of its shell.”

“What about the camera and the listening device Five found?” 

“Alright that was bad.” Two admits. “You have the dampener Five gave you, so it will never happen again. And if you want I will allow that punch in the face you wanted earlier.” She gives a small humorous smile, hoping to put an end to One's reclusive protest. She maintains a soft tone in her voice as she continues to persuade One. “There's a serious threat with Corso and this unknown client of his. Every second spent on squabbling is precious time that can be put to better use.”

“There is a serious threat  **right aboard this ship** and you don't seem to take seriously.”

“I told you before if I thought Three was a serious threat he wouldn't be here.” She can see words are not getting the desired effect, so action is the only other course - one she was hoping not to rely on. She forgoes her amiable demeanor, standing ramrod straight and wearing a steely expression. “I'm ordering everyone to not to bring you any food. Android included. And frankly speaking, this petulant act isn't an attractive side to you.” Two isn't opposed either to using the close relationship they began to develop lately in order to get One out of his room. 

One presses his lips in a thin line, determined not to give up. 

Two exhales an exasperated breath and leaves One alone with his grumbling stomach.

* * *

 

The only thing One can count as fortunate at the moment is the private adjoining bathroom in his cabin. His bladder will remain empty but so will his stomach. His sit-in has left him in desperate need of food and he’s willing to do what he needs in order to kill his hunger pangs. 

_ And it will not be breaking bread with the merc. _ Why did he have to think of bread? 

His plan is a quick stealthy exit to gather some food and then he will continue his very mature protest, contrary to Two's opinion. Mahatma Gandhi staged a hunger strike and wasn’t considered  _ ‘petulant’ _ . Okay - One’s fight isn't anywhere near as noble, he admits, but he is willing to fight for what he knows is right. And he’ll fight much better with protein bars.

One slowly peeks out of his room.  

“Evening. Going somewhere?” Three asks standing out in the hall as One almost exits his room. 

“Kitchen.” One tersely responds as he walks down the hall, revealing his plan. Screw stealth and screw Marcus Boone.

“Great, I'll join you.” The merc actually skips to fall in step with One.

One rolls his eyes, stopping in his tracks. “On second thought, I'll head back to bed.” He makes a U-turn back to his room.

“Suit yourself. You know where to find me if--” The door to One's room slides shut in the merc's face. “--you change your mind. Oh yeah he wants me.”

* * *

 

Not five minutes later after One closes the door on Three does the merc quietly knock on One’s door.

Knowing that One won’t open the door for him, Three speaks through the intercom. “I know you’re hungry holed up in there. I’ve got a grilled cheese, not that protein cardboard stuff. C'mon, you don't want the cheese getting cold.”

Pure desperation brings One to push the button to open his door to the tempting offer. He inspects the offered food plated on Three’s hand. To his surprise the sandwich is made exactly the way he likes. Two kinds of cheese. Thick slices of bread. Even down to the way it's cut into four triangles is done to his particular preference. 

Surprise is evident on One’s face. “This is my favorite. How d'you know?” Realization dawns on him then flatly answers his own question. “Right… the stalking.”

“Surveilling.” The merc rephrases.

“How long were you…  _ surveilling _ , anyway?” One wanted to say ‘perversely stalking’ but a little diplomacy might get him an honest answer. Though thinking back the merc never actually lied to him. At least no lies that he knew of. 

“Hm. Long enough to know about the thing you keep hidden in your closet.” Three grins unabashedly.

One's eyes nearly popped out his sockets. 

“A night with me and you'll never want to use it again, pretty boy.” Three is practically cracking his face with with the grin adorning his bearded face.

The starving man doesn't have the energy to deal with the merc and shuts the door sealing himself away but not before grabbing the plate out of Marcus’ hand. 

“Enjoy, pretty boy!” Three yells through the door with mirth in his voice.

“Shut up! And go away!” One’s voice is muffled not by the door between them but the food he hastily devours. He knows it's sending the wrong message to the deranged merc by accepting the sandwich. But when it tastes this delicious, the possible implication is so worth it. One stifles the appraising moan from another chomp into the food.


	5. Whose device is it anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this short update after a long hiatus. I just really missed these two while watching the new season. *sad panda face*

What is Marcus, Three - she reminds herself, going to do about his crush on One once the op is over? It’s a question Five ponders to herself. 

After seeing the depths the merc went through, she is sure the merc won't want to leave. Not without One anyway.

If Three planned on staying, she needs him to be on his best behavior. One was losing his mind from Three’s antics. And she wants everyone on board to coexist in harmony. Their adventures left them with enough drama. The ship needs to be their safe zone, their refuge from the insanity of their work lives.

That is why she finds herself knocking on the door of Three’s - possibly temporary - residence. 

“Hey there. You’re the tech monkey, right?” Three greets wrapped in a silk pink robe.

“ _ Five _ will do just fine.” She pushes past him into his room so they can have some privacy.

The first thing Three does is swallow an already filled shot glasses. A satisfied grunt follows. He offers a swig, clearly unfazed by Five’s young age, but she shakes her head to decline his offer. He shrugs.

“Do you always have a bottle of the hard stuff for breakfast?”

“Hard liquor gets the day going quicker.” He swishes the alcohol around in his mouth straight from the bottle this time and finally gulps it down after a short gargle.

Five tries to stay on track after witnessing Three’s version of… washing up? 

She has Three promise he'll behave on the ship to keep One relatively happy -- and prevent him from killing the merc. If she didn’t wind up spacing him first. 

Three melts despite himself. It was sweet that she cares for his pretty boy. So because he can relate to her need to protect Pretty Boy, he complies with her request.

He holds up on one hand and places the other over his heart. “I, Marcus Boone aka Three, do solemnly swear on the enchiladas for which it stands to respect the personal boundaries of Bright Eyes while staying aboard the Raza.” 

Five’s brows nearly touch her hairline. “Okay… I think that's as good as it’s going to get with you.”

She stops from exiting the room after remembering to return Three’s devices she found in One’s room. Five wasn't sure if she should return the device but decided they would do no harm since she installed a dampening field in One’s room just in case Three didn’t learn his lesson. “Here's your stuff back.” 

“Uh, that ain’t mine, kid.” Three pouts at the devices in Five’s hand.

“But I found them during a sweep of One’s room.” 

“Really. I was planning on hanging out in the vent and enjoy the show with my own two hands.” Three admits. 

“You mean your own two eyes, right?” Five twists her face at Three’s confession. She believes him - for better or worse. Which creates a new mystery… 

“Whose device is it anyway?” 

“Who the hell is sneaking a peek at Pretty Boy’s goodies before me?”

Five’s question was obviously the first.


	6. When is the next reunion?

The device Five had found in One’s room truly didn’t belong the merc as everyone suspected. They discovered the listening gadget was planted by Jace Corso. It was how Corso knew One would be alone and to send Boone after the lone Raza member.

Now, the crew convene in the mess hall to discuss the new discovery. One, and Three as well, was just relieved he didn’t have to worry about someone peeping on him from parts unknown. Of course One still has to worry about someone else on the ship with a depraved gaze.

“Okay, let’s break it down. So, we know they know that we don’t plan on giving Pretty Boy to them but they don’t know we know that they know and they’ll never know what hit ‘em with us in the know, ya know?” Three rushes out.

“No.” The rest of the team say in unison.

“I say we can use this intel to our advantage and get the drop on our enemy.”

Three throws his hands in the air. “That's exactly what I said!” He leans on the table with a look of determination as he goes on to explain himself.  “Look, we can still go through with this. We just need to be even more prepared than we were before. I’m thinking we set some booby traps and finish anyone left standing with some grenades, firebombs, and my good pal - Bubba.”

“Bubba?” Five questions, peeking her head up from examining the device for any clues to Corso's client.

“He names his gun. And then insists that he’s not a psycho.” 

Three clutches his chest in mock pain and directs a put upon pout at One.

“I don’t know, this seems too risky.” Two weighs in. “It was one thing when they expected only Three and One but now they’re expecting all of us to be ambush them. The odds aren’t stacked in our favor if they decide to add more force on their side.”

“Jace’s client wants One alive and unharmed. A gunfight is the last thing they will want to resort to.” Four provides his insights to their predicament. “Three actually might have a solid point about setting traps.”

“I did? I mean, of course, I did!” Three grins proudly.

“Yes.” Four confirms with a humored smile. “Minus the warfare level amount of weaponry you suggested, of course.” 

Two nods. “I think it would be in our best interest to capture Jace. Alive.” Two pointedly directs at Three. “Then we can interrogate him for some much-needed information on his client.”

Three groans in protest. “Alive? That's gonna make this so much harder. And not in the fun, back cracking way, sweet cakes.” He winks at One.

“Let’s get this over with.” One says with exasperation.

“Sorry, Bubba. Maybe next time.”

*********

Three and One wait at the agreed meeting place, in a long abandoned factory on a neutral planet out of the Galactic Authority’s reach.

The two men see Jace Corso arriving at the site shortly after the Raza crew hide at various points to flank their enemy and quickly come to the rescue in case things go bad.

Jace ends his swaggering stride when he comes in range of Three and One. 

“Corso, good to see you. Looking well. Blah, blah, blah. Now show me the money, honey.” Three rushes out.

“Why the hurry? I’d like to catch up with my old crew before I kill ‘em.”

Three sputters in reply. “Crew? What crew? Just me and this beautiful specimen here.” He grins widely at his captured trade as he pulls One close to his side, arm wrapped around One’s waist.

One rolls his eyes. Not able to do much else being tied and gagged to sell their act of luring Corso. The fact that the merc has tied and gagged him again wasn't lost on One.

Three continues, “who I might add, is in pristine condition. I even cleaned every nook and cranny for my -- I mean, your pleasure.”

Corso laughs boisterously, reverberating around the room. And both men are willing to bet it isn’t for Three’s joke. The lone man snaps his fingers and a group of hired guns emerge in formation from the entrance Corso arrived from, lining up beside him. 

“Not a smart move, Corso. You know you need pretty boy here alive and intact for your client.”

“True. But  _ I’d _ rather leave here alive and intact.” Corso states with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Come out and play. No need to hide, I used a heat sensor before I came in.”

Two, Four, and Six reveal themselves from underneath a false floor paneling, atop a balcony, and behind a far off column - respectively. With the facade over, One easily slips out of his loosely cuffed restraints and pulls the gag from his mouth. 

Three bemoans at One’s action. “I was kinda into that look.” 

“ _ Please _ shoot him first.” One begs.

“There will no shooting.” Two insists as she makes her way to Three’s other side with her gun trained on Corso. “You  _ will _ tell us who hired you, however.” She demands to Corso.

Corso squints his eyes but maintains an aloof smile. “You know I always hated being told what to do. Besides… You’re outgunned and outnumbered.”

“And you’re outmatched, old friend.” Four enters the fray standing on the other side of One and reveals the uncovered dime-sized listening device in his palm. “You left this behind.”

Corso’s mouth presses into a thin line. 

“And you may want to try checking that heat sensor again.” Six primes the thermal bombs placed at critical points where Corso and his hired help are located.

One of Corso’s people confirms the area is lit with explosives ready to detonate, causing Corso’s already fading cool demeanor to completely deteriorate with a booming curse.

“Your move, buddy.” Three trades victoriously.

Corso chuckles darkly. “Did they offer you more money, Marcus?”

“There are some things more important than money, Corso.” Three explains with a serious tone. “Like this,” Three turns One around, who yelps in surprise. “Presenting exhibit A. And fine A it is!” 

One whacks Three’s hands away, showcasing his butt like a prize on a game show. “Seriously, the offer to shoot him still stands.”

“I expected better from you, Marcus.” Corso remarks.

Three shrugs. “Well, I'm full of disappointments. And the name’s back to Three.”

Corso hums. “Despite the turn of events, this was nice. I'll have to make sure we all have another reunion soon. Very soon.” Corso addresses to everyone. “And it was nice to official meet to you, Moss.”

“The name is One and I can't say the feeling was mutual.”

********

The two party members depart without any bloodshed and both leave without what they sought after.

Although their plan had minimal success, for the first time since meeting Marcus Boone, One has a wide, joyous grin plastered on his face. With the Raza’s use of the merc done and over, it meant Three’s temporary visitor’s pass has expired. And One is past ready to drop Three off once they land at their next destination and never see his stupid face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Three make himself useful enough to stay on board? I wonder...

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are welcomed! Stay tuned for more!


End file.
